


a mortals love | dnf

by loginwastaken



Category: DSMP - Fandom, DreamSMP, mcyt
Genre: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound Angst (Video Blogging RPF), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 04:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loginwastaken/pseuds/loginwastaken
Summary: George catches the attention of the server god; but is he enough to fill the hole still left in Georges heart?-"You know I'm not him though; don't you, George?"George's eyes stung with the threat of tears. Of course he knew. He had always known. But above all else, he had hoped. And with a bitter smile, he replied in a broken and cracking voice,"Yes."
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dnf - Relationship, dreamnotfound - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	a mortals love | dnf

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if any CC's mention no longer being comfortable with works being written about them, this will be taken down.
> 
> I'm sort of in the middle of writing a college AU that Ive not posted anywhere, its my selfish fic ngl. And I also just posted the little snippet of George and Clay meeting in an UberPool called 'under the influence', so this is just itching a spot in my brain while I work on those two. 
> 
> Lot of shit has been posted lately, I guess to make up for my first published AO3 work being literally just self-indulgent smut that I slapped Dream and Georges names on. Embarrassing.
> 
> Anyways, this idea came to me after a tiktok, though I can't for the life of me find that tiktok now. I know George is just bad at lore, but I love the idea that c!George might just stay out of canon fights and drama because he hates the thought of having to face the bad things Dream has done because he loves Dream and doesnt want that to be how he sees him. He stays away, building his house and joining other countries, because thats easier than facing the destruction caused by Dream or visiting him in prison and acknowledging the wrong hes done. DreamXD though is basically an excuse for George to be selfish and love Dream without consequence. So here's that! A bit of inner monologue and angst with it, etc etc.

The grass tickled the back of George's neck and head as he laid back, letting the last remnants of the day's sun fall over him. It would be back in the morning, but there were twelve dark hours until it returned and George wasn't quite sure how ready he was to brace the night just yet. Sunset would be any minute now, and from the moment the sun touched the edge of the horizon, he could count on only 2-3 more minutes until it disappeared completely. For now, he would enjoy it's warmth.

Stretching his arms out to either side of himself, he closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing and allow himself to get lost between where the dirt and grass ended and met the sky. If he slowed his breathing and cleared his mind, for even just a moment, he could feel himself become one with the ground and the sky. It was a silly thing, and something he shared with only one person on the server, knowing they'd only tease him for it. He kept this secret to himself, and reveled it in whenever he found the chance to lie silently in the grass beneath the sunset like now. 

He was interrupted by a bright beam of light. It was a direct source, he could tell because he could see how bright it was even from behind closed eyelids. His eyes squinted further, but he didn't turn his head away. He knew what came next. He had shared a moment like this before. He sort of resented it now though, interrupting what few moments he had left in the day to share with the sun and grass.

"You're doing it again." A voice erupted from above George, echoing and reverberating within his head. The voice was familiar; it shared the likes of another voice George knew, yet still found its own way to be nothing like the other. It echoed inside of his head, bouncing around and growing quieter in its own time. It forced you to listen, forced you to not speak until you had heard what it had to say. George hated having to hear it over and over again sometimes. 

"I know." George spoke quickly, voice nearly bitter. 

"Why?" The echo came again. George _knew_ that other people could hear the voice, he knew it wasn't _all_ in his head; but he knew only he was hearing this echo, for the voice had been directed at him only. 

George cracked one eye open, and before him(or above him?) stood a god. DreamXD, as he was so lovingly known around the server. He was upside down form George's perspective, but still tall, towering high enough to cast a shadow over most of George and where he lay. Robes of a deep green laid draped over his shoulders, covering his body entirely. From where George laid, now in the shade, the deep shade of green nearly looked black. Four wings grew from his back, rising into the air and casting an even greater shadow before him. A sort of halo framed his head beautifully. The gods face was covered, and part of George longed to see what was beneath it. He wanted to see, only for a moment, to allow himself to return to the early days. He wanted to see that face again, to travel back to the first days on the server when things were easy and it was only _them._ George felt his brow tense, knitting together in an angry pout. He didn't want to look at him any longer. Opening both eyes, he moved his arms to his sides and pushed himself up, pulling his knees to his chest to rest his chin atop them. 

"I was enjoying the sun, until you got in my way." His tone stayed bitter, though it wasn't necessarily the god he was mad at. He knew even if he'd stepped in way back in the beginning, things would have found their way here eventually. To death and destruction, to him alone on this hill. 

The god looked back over his shoulder, acknowledging the falling sun as it rapidly approached the horizon. He'd not realized he'd interrupted anything, but he could fix this very easily. In a moment, it had stopped, frozen in place and awaiting his next command. George had expected an immediate answer, glancing over his shoulder to the other and acknowledging the sun as well, no longer dropping to the horizon behind them. He rolled his eyes, annoyed with the gods response. Somewhere deep down, he appreciated the others solution, and was happy to have a few moments longer with the suns heat cascading over his back and blanketing the server before him; but somewhere much more superficial, he despised the gods actions. 

He just couldn't help it. When George was feeling sorry for himself like this, missing _him_ and what things were once like, he could only resent the gods good deeds for him. Why did he get to be so good? Why did he get to be so kind to George, when the one he shared his looks with, the one George _longed for_ , had to be so cruel? He could normally relish in these moments. He could let himself pretend it had always been _him_. But it wasn't. This was a god. This was not the man George longed for. 

The shadow over him slowly began to move, and George watched the wings and halo completely disappear from it before the god sat at his side, joining him as a mortal upon the hill. When George finally turned to look at him, the other was admiring the view before them, one hand splayed out atop the grass and running over it slowly. It was heartbreaking, knowing he wasn't who he wanted him to be. He shared his hair, shared his face shape from what could be seen behind the mask, and when George dropped his eyes to watch his fingers brush across the grass beneath them, he found even similar hands. His chest tightened at the sight, a lump growing within his throat as he watched careful fingers pressing between the blades of grass. 

"Why do you do it?" The voice was back, echoing between his ears. When he lifted his gaze though, the god wasn't meeting his eyes. 

"Do what?" George questioned, sniffling once to clear his throat of the lump. 

"Hurt yourself like that." 

George wasn't sure what he meant. He'd only said he was enjoying the sun, it wasn't as if the sun was bright enough to burn him. He wasn't hurting himself at all, in fact he felt he got a lot out of lying in the silence beneath the sunset. When the god turned to him though, he felt he knew what the god had meant. The white mask displayed _nothing_. It gave the god the ability to never express himself, it left him completely neutral, but when he wanted you to know something, you _knew_ it. And in that moment, George knew that the god wasn't speaking about his nap in the sun, but of his longing, and George didn't have an answer for that. He wasn't sure he could answer that himself, let alone find the words to explain it to a _god,_ so he turned forward and rested his chin atop his knees again. 

There was a long silence between them then. George could feel the other staring, he knew that the god hadn't looked away for a _second_ , but he didn't mind. He'd grown used to it, truthfully. There was something comforting about knowing a god was always watching, and George had that even when said god wasn't sitting by his side. 

"Would you like to see him?" The question sent chills down George's spine. He raised his head, turning to the god with a twisted mix of questioning and fear. 

"Visit him? I can't do that," The tone of his voice had turned almost frantic. He hadn't visited him since he'd been taken to prison, and even before that, George had found it hard facing him at times. He longed for him, more than anything, but actually facing him and the things he's done, it was something George couldn't bring himself to do. 

"No, would you like to _see_ him?" The god reached out slowly and took George's wrist in hand, lifting it to the edge of his mask. The feeling of the hand had made his heart skip two or three beats, but the implication that he could remove the gods mask and see _him_ beneath it must have stopped his heart altogether. He couldn't form the proper sentence to respond, only staring at the white of the mask. When his fingers finally closed around the masks edge, he could feel the tears threatening to fall, the lump in his throat keeping him from breathing the air he'd trapped in his lungs. The god raised his other hand and pulled back the hood of the robe, soft locks of dirty brown bouncing up and out from beneath it as the hand around Georges wrist slowly led his hand up, taking the mask with it. George's eyes dried, unable to blink as he watched the mask slowly lift. A chin, then lips. Soft freckles and a nose. Pink cheeks. Deep green eyes, deeper than his robe yet somehow brighter in comparison. He was a perfect match. 

And suddenly, Dream sat before him. 

George couldn't help the smile to break out onto his face, his other hand raising to the gods cheek. He held his face in both of his hands, taking it all in for a moment. It was like having him back, but with all of his wrongdoings and unforgivable mistakes no longer attached. The weight of loving him was gone. The guilt and self-hatred for wanting him back in his arms, for wanting him to himself again, it was gone and replaced with only a light within Georges chest. Slowly, George flattened his legs in the grass again, pulling the god with him as he laid back in the grass once more. The god followed, eyes trained on George's own as he turned to press both hands into the grass and hover above George. The lump had double, tripled in size, and threatened to burst at any minute. 

_"You're back,"_ He whispered softly, nearly incomprehensible even to his own ears. The gods face twisted, brows furrowing ever-so-slightly and eyes searching Georges face.

 _"_ You know I'm not him though; don't you, George?"

George's eyes stung with the threat of tears. Of course he knew. He had always known. But above all else, he had hoped. And with a bitter smile, he replied in a broken and cracking voice,

"Yes." George nodded softly, "I just need to believe it, just for a minute, please." A tear bubbled in his eyes before tumbling down his temple and into his hair. The god nodded in response, confusion falling form his expression. 

George felt like such a _fool._ He knew that this was not the Dream he loved, the Dream he adored, but why could he not be selfish? For only a moment longer, could he not let himself love the version of Dream that showered him in attention and love? Was that all that bad, really? As if to answer his question, the god leaned in and pressed a gentle, loving kiss to his forehead. His lips had felt like feathers, conveyed such a message in a matter of moments, he melted beneath them. His eyes fell shut and for a moment, he had felt it. He'd felt one with the grass and the sky. He'd felt the blurred line between where they met, and he felt Dream there with him. When he opened his eyes again, he felt a punch to the gut in the way the god looked back at him. For a moment, he felt the emotion he was looking at was not a mimic of Dream or feigned emotion, faked and only displayed to ease George's own pain. It felt sincere. It felt real. The god had not only accepted his plea to have this moment of sincerity, he'd not only felt it, but he'd embodied it entirely. Once again, he was not letting George down. It felt like more than he could say about Dream, which felt like a tornado of emotion within his chest. A loved one letting you down, repeatedly, was painful enough. Realizing your heart is finding its home in someone else, that hurt far worse. 

George sucked in a breath before his hands pressed into the gods cheeks a bit more firmly, pulling him down and meeting him halfway to connect their lips. There was an instant response, a kiss returned, just as heated and emotional as his own. Was he falling for it? Was this all a ploy? Had the god intentionally looked at him like that, intentionally given him this kiss to ease his mind? When he pulled away, his eyes stayed shut, head falling to rest in the grass again as another tear rolled down his temple. A warm thumb pressed into his cheek and he inhaled sharply, the feeling so familiar yet new. The god rested his palm against Georges cheek, and as he leaned into the touch, he relished in the feeling of the others thumb slowly wiping tears from his face.

George trailed his hands from the gods face to the large robes he wore, clinging to the fabric to remind himself this moment was real, but it was not Dream above him. 

"It isn't fair." George felt his brow crease and knew he'd let himself go too far. The tears came immediately after, and as he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop them, they bubbled up and began to stream down either side of his face and back into his hair. _"It's not fair,"_ He repeated, much quieter now, voice breaking. His hands lowered as the god leaned in closer, pressing their foreheads together as his own hands slipped back into George's hair. It was comforting, at least, feeling him so close. It made George feel comfortable sitting in this emotion a little longer, confused and distraught, unsure of what he was feeling beyond that and unsure of where to go next with it all. 

"He always made such a show of being there for me, but even when I told him what he was doing was wrong, he did it anyways. He was so performative, so grand with his gestures, but all I wanted was _him."_ George's grip on the gods robes tightened and his fingertips fell numb, his lips growing tingly. He was beginning to hyperventilate, like at the beginning of a panic attack.

"It isn't fair. Why are you so kind and why couldn't he ever be half of that?" George turned his head away, the feeling of what should have been Dreams hands in his hair and forehead pressed to his own too overwhelming. The god pulled away, hands falling from George altogether as he let him have his moment to cry and get his feelings out, but after a moment they returned. His hands held George's head gently, guiding him to look his way again. George finally opened his eyes, letting the god move his head so they were facing each other again. They shared in the sorrow for a moment before he finally spoke up. 

"Mortals weren't made to be easy to love." The echo of the voice had dimmed tremendously, but it still reverberated in George's head. He knew this already, the god before him understood that. Of all people, George knew what it was like to love a mortal man and love a god, and he knew he would always fault Dream for his flaws- for not being like the man before him. But that was cruel. Dream ~~would~~ _could never_ amount to the expectations set upon him if he was compared to a god. It was unfair to expect him to always act morally right, to always know the path to take. George could fault him for many decisions, but he could not expect him to be the perfect man. 

"Why couldn't he just be _kind?_ If he loved me so much, if he loved _Sapnap_ so much, why wasn't he kinder? Why couldn't he bite his tongue, if only just to stay with us?" George wasn't sure he was expecting an answer from the god, he wasn't sure that was something the god would even know, so when he received only silence in response, he wasn't surprised. His breathing had slowed, though. His lips were no longer tingling. He'd been lucky not to fall entirely into a panic attack, though he knew he wasn't safe from it yet. He had a lot to wrap his head around, a lot to come to terms with, and a lot to understand between he and Dream. It would be a long journey, but he felt comfort in holding him close now and letting go of a little at a time. 

"Stay with me? Please?" George let go of the gods robes, running his hands up to his neck to hold him gently. 

"Tonight, I'm yours." The echo was comforting now. A reminder that for the night he could have Dream back, if only at an arms reach. The god before him pulled away, and Georges hands followed until he was forced to let go and let them fall to his chest. He watched as the god rid himself of his robes, lying them on the grass and sitting atop them. George was quick to follow, and they both lied back as the sun began to inch toward the horizon behind them again. The two watched as the light blanketing the server slowly disappeared, Georges head resting atop the gods chest, two arms wrapped around him carefully, gently. He felt only peace in that moment, melting into the grass and sky once more, Dream filling his mind, the god holding him close. In the morning, he would wake up alone, lying in the grass in the warmth of the sun again, the god long gone and his robes gone with him, the daunting feeling of missing Dream and wanting nothing to do with him all the same would be back again; but for now, George was happy. 


End file.
